


To Allow the Unexpected

by Crazydragon9001



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, extreme fluff, you will honestly die from it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazydragon9001/pseuds/Crazydragon9001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle’s mother was a fairy who gave up her wings to be her father, Sir Maurice. When she died, she entrusted to her daughter the one relic she had kept from her old life-a chest full of books. But these weren’t ordinary books. They were some of the most ancient scripts in all the land that told the very origins of magic itself. Cue Rumplestiltskin, who needs those texts and will do anything to get them. But there’s one thing he didn’t reckon for. There is an enchantment on the trunk. It must be given willingly, and only to a person she truly loves. Rumplestiltskin decides there is nothing else to do. He must woo her, but the other thing he doesn’t reckon for is how absolutely lovely he ends up finding Belle to be. Will he succeed in tricking her into loving him? Or will he make the mistake of falling for her first?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is my first ever multi-chap Rumbelle fanfic. All comments/feedback would be greatly appreciated! Check out my tumblr page, I go by the same name on there.

Belle shut her book with a sigh, throwing herself onto her bed. Not for the first time, she wondered why on Earth her mother had given her this chestful of books, and what she was expected to do with them. She knew her parent’s love story, of course. The fairy that had given up her wings and her magic to be with a mortal man. Belle had often wondered what it would be like to experience that-a love so powerful that it meant giving up everything you’d ever known rather than trying to live without them.

When Belle’s mother had died, the only thing she had left her daughter was a chestful of books. They were ancient texts, with yellowed, curling pages and barely legible handwriting. Belle was smart. She knew far more of the tongues in the Enchanted Forest than most of the scholars in her father’s castle, but there was something about these books that made them impossible to read. Just when she thought she had deciphered a word, the letters seemed to almost shift before her eyes, until she could no longer make out the word she thought she had identified.

“Bloody magic,” she muttered. “It’s no use to anyone.”

A knock at her door had her scrambling to toss her covers over the book before she grabbed a normal one this time, off her shelf and settled herself in the armchair by the fireplace before sweetly calling, “Come in!”

Her father’s head was the one to poke around the door. “Belle,” he started.

“Papa!” she said, standing up.

He didn’t respond, his eyes heavy with something that looked suspiciously like…guilt.

“Papa,” she repeated, this time in a more nervous tone. “What’s wrong?”

Sir Maurice fidgeted nervously with his hands as he came fully around the door and into his only child’s room. “Belle, you know that you’ve been of marriageable age for quite some time now.”

“Yes….” Belle hesitantly replied, not at all happy with where he was going.

“Sir Gaston has asked for your hand,” he blurted out.

“Oh Papa, you already know how I feel about him.”

“Yes I do, my dear girl, but unfortunately, I haven’t been left with many other options. While you know that I love you dearly, just as I loved your mother, you are quite a bookish girl. I admit that your mother’s intelligence was what drew me to her, but my dear, would it kill you to attend some of our balls once in a while?”

“I do attend balls!” Belle protested. “Is it my fault that all the suitors are stuffy and boring and look as if they’ve never picked up a book in their life?”

“Please, just think about it?” Maurice implored.

With a sigh that was very far from ladylike, Belle relented, stiffly saying. “If you would excuse me, Papa, I was in the middle of a very good story.”

“Yes of course,” replied her father as he hastily hurried from the room.

Married! Belle could hardly perish the thought. She wasn’t one to submit to a man’s whims about whether she could read or learn or have any thoughts of her own. Besides, even if her papa didn’t know this yet, she had plans to travel the world. And then maybe she would consider getting married. Certainly not to a boorish, shallow fellow such as Gaston, however. 

Belle shut her book, caressing its worn cover as she lovingly placed it back on the shelf in the place from where she had grabbed it not so long ago. Reaching beneath the bodice of her dress, she drew out a key that hung as a pendant around her neck. The key was brass, forged in an ornate shape that almost resembled a tree, with the bow of the key coming together to look like a crown. The teeth were unique in that there were seven, rather than the usual two or three, and all of them shaped like stars. Belle couldn’t even count the number of times she had lain awake in her bed, trading over the 5-pointed shapes with her thumb. She placed the key in the lock of the chest at the foot of her bed and slowly turned it to the right until a series of clicks could be heard. Once she did that, she whispered the words, “Reserare secreta,” and pressed her hand to the wood before turning the key a fraction of the inch to the left. Mechanical whirring could once again be heard, upon which Belle pushed firmly on the key, revealing that the lock actually sunk into the truck itself. The top opened automatically, just as it always had, and Belle took the book of magic out from under the covers, nestling it back in the trunk next to its 4 identical brethren. All of them had silver lettering on their spines, but just as the words within the pages of the books, their titles were indistinguishable, at least to her eyes. 

As Belle closed the lid of the trunk, hearing the click of the latch as it locked automatically. She ran her thumb over the etching on the side of the trunk. Colette was spelled out in flowery script, with vines growing off the letters and disappearing into the trunk. Belle had never truly known her mother. All she remembered was a kind laugh, soft strands of dark brown hair, not unlike her own, and the constant scent that surrounded her, a mixture of lavender, dew, and sunshine. If light had a scent, it would have been Lady Colette of Avonlea. She remembered her mother’s hands guiding her own, showing her how to open the trunk and access the books, and her mother’s fingers brushing aside wispy strands of Belle’s hair to place the chain around her neck. Unfortunately, that was almost all she had of her mother.

Belle slanted her eyes to the large panel of windows by her chaise. The sun was setting and soon it would be almost completely dark. A timid knock on the door confirmed it, as she called, “Come in!” for the second time that night. Her lady-in-waiting, Paige, scurried in.

“Miss? Would you like assistance in preparing for bed?”

Belle smiled kindly. “Thank you, Paige.” She stood in front of the mirror as Paige unpinned her hair and helped her out of her dress, then proceeding to dress her in her nightgown. As she retrieved the brush, Belle waved her off. “That’s okay, Paige. You may leave.” Her lady-in-waiting curtsied and left. Belle picked up the brush and started running it through her hair in long, soothing strokes. This was the other memento she had of her mother. Her mother’s library and book collection was one of Belle’s greatest treasures, but right next to them was the hairbrush currently resting in her hand. It was a simple thing, cream colored with a rose on its back, but something about its simplicity was beautiful. Belle gazed into the mirror, contemplating her future, as she continued to languidly brush her hair. Perhaps tomorrows she would take another look at those books. 

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

“Aaaahhhh!” Rumplestiltskin screamed in frustration as he threw open the doors of his castle. “That conniving bitch! And to think, I was about to give her the better end of the deal! For once in my life, I was going to be generous and then she turns around and throws it in my face!”

He had just returned from an attempted deal near the Southern Darklands, where he had been trying to trade for a compass that would point him in the direction of what he wanted most in this world. At first he had dismissed it as useless, knowing that the only thing he wanted wasn’t in this world. Then he realized that something he wanted was. He may not have his son, but what he wanted more than anything was a means to find him. The compass had been a family heirloom possessed by a young couple whose greatest wish was to have a child but were unable to do so, due to the woman being barren. Rumplestiltskin had offered to not only provide them with a healthy child and ensure that the woman’s womb was fertile again, but also to give them enough gold and resources in order to properly raise the child and any that may follow it. He had thought it was a very good deal. Unlike his dealings with other, more desperate people, he had little to gain from placing a loophole within the contract, and so he had written it to be airtight. But just before the woman, whose name had been Mary or Martha or something equally pathetic, could deliver her end of the deal, she had decided that she would rather adopt a babe and use whatever savings they had to raise it. She hadn’t wanted to use his “cursed, unnatural magic”. 

He had wanted to rage at her until she was so frightened she was on her knees begging before him, but it wasn’t in him to hurt the mother of a child. Instead, he had waited until he had poofed safely away to his home to scream. Now he had no compass, no direction, and no way to get to Bae. Back to square one. He stomped angrily over to his spinning wheel, magicking away his dragon-hide cloak. Underneath, he was dressed in a simple cotton shirt with a billowy vest and tight leather pants. Nothing as frightening as people seemed to expect, but then again, Rumplestiltskin thought with a scowl, what did they know?

He sat down in front of his wheel, threading the straw through the spindle. Closing his eyes, he started to turn the wheel, feeling the rhythm of the spokes under the rough pads of his fingers and hearing the creak of the wood match his heartbeats until his mind had calmed from a raging typhoon to a gentler breeze. He remembered doing these exact same motions when he was just a spinner, although it seemed at once yesterday yet 300 years ago still. It had been so long since he’d seen his darling boy. Rumplestiltskin smiled, letting the little voice fill his head. “Papa, can you keep spinning?” His boy had liked to watch the wheel too.  
All of a sudden, Rumple’s eyes flew open. His eyes glimmered for a second before hardening. He couldn’t afford to be weak right now. Love was weakness, he knew that well enough, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on things until he had them back again. There would be plenty of room for love once he had Baelfire back, but before that? Regina would practically be able to skin him alive if she had that information.

He jumped up from his place at the wheel, enveloped himself in a cloud of purple smoke. When it cleared, he was in his tower. It was the only wing of the castle that was completely inaccessible to those without magic, unless of course, he allowed it. He looked past the rack of potions positioned the closest to the door, noting the empty spot where he had yet to bottle the most powerful magic of all. That was a task for another time. Instead of going to his books or his laboratory table, he walked to the corner, where there was nothing but an empty brick wall. Flicking his hand and twirling his fingers in an upward motion, the wall slid backward until it had all but disappeared, revealing a small closed-off room that could not be seen from the outside of the castle. The room looked like an ordinary one, except for one thing. Devoid of any furniture or any of Rumplestiltskin’s usual trophies that tended to clutter every other room in his home, there was instead a pool of water in the center of the floor. The outer edge was lined with alternating stones cut from amethyst and amber, and the water was brilliantly clear, although the bottom could not be seen, appearing to be shrouded in mist.

Rumplestiltskin leaned over the edge of the pool, observing his own reflection. However, even as he watched it, his face began to ripple and dissolve, and a white smoke began to seep in across the top of the water. When it cleared, the water reflected nothing, appearing so calm it almost resembled a sheet of ice. Still leaning out over the water, he whispered, “Show me how to get to Baelfire.” For a minute, nothing happened and Rumplestiltskin cursed the unreliability of the scrying pool. Sometime it showed him something utterly meaningless, other times it showed him nothing at all. But as he moved to get up, the water rippled again, the small waves echoing with the sound of a woman humming a lullaby. An image came into focus and as he watched, it cleared until he could see, plain as day, a scene of a woman’s bedroom. It appeared to be empty, but all of a sudden the woman herself danced into his view, wearing a simple cotton nightgown. She hurried back to her vanity, and it seemed to Rumplestiltskin as if the view must be from the woman’s mirror, since he could see every inch of her face as she stared into it, obviously not seeing him.

She was brushing her hair slowly with a cream-colored hairbrush, not unlike one that he remembered Milah using so long ago, although it was plain from both the quality of her gown and the ribbons in her hair that she was highborn. The woman proceeded to run the brush through her long, brown hair in soothing strokes, the repetitive moment bringing a smile to her lips even as she closed her eyes and continued to hum the same song he had heard her singing. He watched for a few more moments, but the scrying pool, besides being unreliable, was not strong enough to maintain the image for very long. The woman shimmered and faded, although her song seemed to echo around the room even after the pool had calmed once more.

Unsure whether to be grateful that the magic had given him something, or frustrated that the something still seemed to be useless, Rumplestiltskin stretched and got up, barely feeling the cold from the floor he had been sitting on. He waved his hands and once again, the door opened, allowing him an entrance back into his laboratory. As he walked straight through, only stopping to magic himself into his bedchambers, he vowed to start over the next day. He would read every book in the world if he needed to. Threaten the livelihoods of every peasant or noble within his reach. It didn’t matter what it took. Rumplestiltskin was going to find his son.

But even as he slid into his bed, thoughts of a brown-haired, blue-eyed woman encroached upon his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so sorry I've been gone so long! Here's the second chapter, and to make up for my absence, I will have the third one ready in a couple of days. Enjoy!

“My lady! My lady! Wake up! Please wake up!” Belle slowly dragged herself away from sleep, groggily opening her eyes as her brain struggled to assess the situation. The wine of a siren filled the air and she sat bolt upright in the bed. The ogres. Paige, seeing that her mistress was awake, dashed about, half mad with worry, as Belle sprung from the bed and began to open the hatch that would take her and her maid to the safe room built within the castle for this very reason. 

Avonlea had been a major part of the Ogre Wars for quite some time now. Her father, Sir Maurice, was a well-respected general, and as such, he was often called upon to create and revise tactical plans and battle strategies. Even still, ogres weren’t men. They couldn’t be reasoned with and the troops were losing fast. The ogres had pushed forward almost to the borders of Avonlea, and if it seemed as if they would be able to raid the city, the siren began to sound in the castle. It had only sounded twice before-once when she was in the library and another when she had been out in the grounds. Belle knew that logically it would take a lot for the ogres to invade the city. Her mother may have been cast out from the fairies but that didn’t mean she had lost her sisters and her friends, and even after Colette’s death, many of the fairies had been glad to assist in protecting the home and the family Colette had loved. They had wrapped the town in a protective bubble, and although it could be breached, it was hard to do. 

Still, that didn’t stop Belle from yanking the tapestry that adorned the far wall of her room to the side, and sliding open the heavy metal lock on the wooden door beneath it. Just as she slid the door open, she motioned for Paige to go in front of her, down the staircase that descended into the safe room. Taking one last look around her room, she started as she realized that the trunk of books was still sitting at the foot of her bed. Realizing that she couldn’t lose the only bit of her mother that she had left, Belle bolted for the trunk, heaving it off the floor and awkwardly running back to the door, amidst the anxious cries of her maid. 

“I’m sorry,” she huffed. “I couldn’t leave it.”

“Leave what, my lady?” asked Paige in confusion.

Belle’s eyebrows shot upward, but she shrugged it off, hastening down the steps with Paige at her heels. She was met at the bottom by her father, Sir Maurice, and more annoyingly, Sir Gaston as well. Gaston moved to wrap an arm around her waist, but Belle shrugged away from him in one deft motion, searching for a place to set the trunk down. She settled on placing it on a low wooden shelf in one corner, not wanting to continue holding it in her arms. After all, no one could open it but her.

“Ah! The beautiful Belle! What are you doing?"

Belle sighed. It looked like Gaston had found her once again.

“Hello Gaston. I was simply setting down my books.”

“What books?”

She gestured behind her. “The books in the trunk.”

Gaston’s eyebrows knotted in confusion.

“Never mind,” replied Belle.

Deciding to switch tactics, he asked, “How are you faring, my dear?”

Belle stood up straight. “I’m not afraid, if that’s what you mean.”

“No of course not,” he smirked. “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you if the ogres come, and when we are married, you will be mine to protect forever.” At this, he lifted his arm and flexed it slightly, as if attempting to impress her with his brute strength. Belle scoffed. Brute strength was all he was. It hadn’t even gotten through his thick head yet that she didn’t like him. 

Belle was about to gracefully shrug her way out of the conversation when she caught her father’s eye over Gaston’s broad shoulder. He gave her a little wink and mouthed, please talk to him.

Belle sighed again. Lately it had begun to seem like her entire world was simply a series of long sighs right after each other. She looked at Gaston and forced a smile, interrupting him from his monologue, no doubt, about his latest war achievements. “So tell me about the win at Maldain?” she said, her voice full of fake sweetness.

Gaston lit up and immediately began to talk. “Well, when we arrived there, we had no idea what we were walking into, you know. I had barely any men with me, and all of a sudden the ogres were ambushing us! It was a nightmare, but thanks to my quick thinking….”

Belle let him drone on and on as she stared across the room. When the siren finally stopped wailing, and it was determined that the threat had passed and the wall was still up and shielding the city, they were all able to return to their rooms. Belle carried her trunk back up the stairs that led to her bedchambers and her father’s. At the fork in the stairway, Sir Maurice turned to head back up to his bedchambers, before stopping his daughter in her tracks. 

“I saw you talking to Gaston today. You know, he really is a very honorable man.”

“I know papa, but he’s not the one for me.”

“Still dear, I want to make sure you’ve taken care of.”

I will be,” Belle promised her father. “But if I’m going to marry, it has to be for love. You all people should understand.”

“I do, my dear. I do.” Sir Maurice’s eyes shone with tears but he gave his daughter and smiled and trudged away toward his chambers. Belle looked after him for one moment before doing the same. As she turned the metal knob of the door leading into her room, balancing the trunk on one arm in order to use the other, she was suddenly hit with a sense of exhaustion. Stumbling into her room, she set down the trunk and collapsed on her bed.

Warily, she turned her head to gaze at her reflection in the gilded mirror above her vanity. “Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping her hand over her mouth. Rather than the petite woman she expected to see, she saw a brief flash of what could only be aptly described as a reptilian man, wearing some sort of leather breeches and grinning quite nastily. Rubbing her eyes, she blinked. When she looked at the mirror again, the man, if he could be called a man, was gone. Belle got up to inspect the mirror, carefully running her finger down the edge and peering into the glass. Eventually, frustrated and tired, Belle shrugged it off to her tired mind playing tricks on her. Soon enough, she drifted off to sleep.

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

Meanwhile in the Dark Castle, Rumplestiltskin was sitting beside his scrying pool again, smirking at the girl’s frustration in figuring out exactly what had happened. When he had woken up that morning after a scarce few hours of sleep, his thoughts had almost instantly turned to the lady he had seen in the pool last night. He had immediately gone to it, whispering, “Show me the woman who will lead me to my son.”

This time, there was something familiar about her. Careful thinking had led him to realize that she was the daughter of a well-known lord and general down in the South. “Hmmm,” Rumplestiltskin mused aloud. “A noble lady. Now what on Earth can she do?” Settling down to watch her, he had seen the incident with the mirror, and was now wondering where on Earth this little girl had gotten ahold of magic. It wasn’t easy to see through what should have been a one-way mirror. It couldn’t be any of her own, of course, for as well respected as her father was, he was completely mortal. Although….

Leaving the pool and exiting through his tower, Rumplestiltskin went outside, only hesitating slightly before magicking himself away from his grounds. He appeared in front of a tall, foreboding castle, smack in the middle of the Enchanted Forest. Once the summer palace of King Leopold and his beloved daughter, Snow White, it was now the home of Regina, Queen of this part of the land. His distaste at dealing with his apprentice and her tacky clothing decisions was overshadowed by the surprising urge to discover who this woman he kept seeing was, and if anyone had the information, it would be Regina. He had to grant her at least that much. She really did know everything about everybody, helped in part, of course, by her mirror magic. 

Rumplestiltskin walked toward the gates, flicking his hand as the guards tried to stop him, which sent them hurtling into the surrounding forest. Making another hand motion, he threw open the gates and stalked inside. As he expected, Regina was sitting in the foyer, calmly sipping a glass of tea. 

“Well well well, Rumple,” she crooned. “It’s been too long.”

“Not long enough,” he replied, earning himself a little smirk to the corner of her lips.

Rising from the chair, she stalked toward him, trying to let her height intimidate him. Rumplestiltskin took a step backward before slowly circling around her. “I would say you look better than the last time I saw you, but well, that would be a lie. And we both know I don’t lie!” he trilled, raising a hand to make contortions in the air.

“Well of course Rumple. Although it seems your hair still resembles a bunch of slimy weeds that crawled out of a swamp.”

“As opposed to the rats’ nest that is yours?” Rumple countered.

Regina frowned slightly before continuing with her onslaught. “Have you managed to recover from the deadly plague epidemic yet? Oh wait, that’s your natural skin tone.”

He snarled. “Well at least my clothing is tasteful, not like….whatever that is,” he replied, gesturing at her exposed cleavage.

Regina cocked her head. “Like those pants of yours are any better? Do you pour yourself into them every morning?”

“I don’t think your point is valid dearie. Your chest is spilling out of your dress.”

Regina’s smile turned cold. “Cut the crap, Rumple. What do you want?”

“Well dearie, I’m here to make a deal!” His voice got steadily more high-pitched toward the end, as it often did when he was trying to unsettle someone. If it worked on Regina, she wasn’t letting it show.

“There is nothing from you that I want.”

“Really dearie? Not even the location of Snow White?”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea where she is.”

“Ah ah ah dearie. You forget. I taught you everything you know, but not everything I know. Just because your location magic is limited to mirrors doesn’t mean that mine is as well.”

Regina’s eyes had turned into slits, and she stalked toward her former master once again, whirling around as he disappeared only to reappear beside her.

“What do you want?”

“Hmmm….information.” Rumple replied snakily.

“About what?” Regina was curious. Rumplestiltskin was not one to make deals like these very often. And Regina wasn’t certain that she wanted to give him the information he wanted, regardless of what it actually was. “How do I know that you actually know where Snow White is? The last time I made a deal like this with you, my soldiers arrived where you said and she was nowhere nearby.”

“Well that was your mistake dearie. You asked for Snow White’s current whereabouts. Just because she was moving at the time didn’t mean my location wasn’t accurate when I gave it to you. It just meant that you should have asked for where she was going rather than what location in the woods she was currently in. Of course your soldiers didn’t find her. I don’t lie, you know.”

Regina’s frown deepened, marring her otherwise lovely features. “What if I don’t want to make a deal with you?”

“Fine,” answered Rumple. He turned to walk away. “Have fun searching, dear!” He began to walk lazily toward the door. As he took a step, he thought silently to himself, “1….2….” If there was one thing he could do, it was recognize a desperate soul, and Regina had been far too desperate for far too long. 

Just as he reached 3, the doors in front of him slammed shut. “Wait,” Regina called out.

Rumplestiltskin smiled to himself before wiping his expression clean and turning back to face her, sauntering closer. 

“What do you want?” she asked.

He paused, being careful to word his answer. “I want you to answer any question I have, whether you deem it relevant or not, pertaining to the lord of the Southern Marshlands, his family, and his circumstances.”

Regina paused. “Why?”

“That,” Rumplestiltskin answered, “Is none of your business.” He punctuated every word with a jab to the air in front of her face. Removing his finger from the air, he began to walk backward, arms spread wide. “Do we have a deal?”

“Fine,” his former protegé ground out. “Now where is Snow White, and where is she heading?” She asked, remembering to amend the former mistake she had made.

He smirked. “She is heading to a certain town called Wolfsbane. Heard of it?”

“Yes.” An evil smile slowly spread across Regina’s face, as she strode toward the door that would lead to the center of her palace. She was stopped by a sudden gust of wind propelling her backward.

“And what of your part in the deal?” Rumple enquired.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“What is his name?”

“Whose name?”

“You know who. The Lord of Avonlea.”

“Sir Maurice.”

“And his wife?”

“Dead,” Regina answered.

“Of what?”

“Ogres. They are in the center of the Ogre War.”

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, remembering another Ogre War a long time ago. But now was not the time for that. Then he paused, a rumor coming to mind that he had overheard some time ago about a former fairy named Colette who had been killed by ogres. “This mother, was she human?”

Regina cocked her head knowingly. “When she died? Yes.”

“And when she was born?”

A searching look entered her eyes, clearly dying to know how he knew to ask that question. “A fairy, Rumple. She was a fairy.”

So that’s why the girl had magic. She wouldn’t know what to do with it of course, because she was only half fairy, but she would have it nonetheless. “And the daughter, what is her name?”

“Margie or Verna or something of the sort. I don’t know that much.”

“Does she have contact with the fairies? Fairy objects in her possession?”

Regina waited a long time before answering and inwardly, Rumple started to panic. He had given away too much. If she knew he was interested in this girl, she could destroy her before he got the chance to find out what she had that would get him his son back. Finally she answered the question. “I don’t know, Rumple. Now if that’s all you have for me, I have work to do. I trust you can show yourself out.” She turned and swept away.

Rumple blinked, disappearing outside the gates to the surprise of the disgruntled guards who it appeared, had found their way back to their posts. Dimwitted fools, he thought. Their mistress is a magic user. Why is it so shocking that her visitors are magic users as well? Poofing back to his castle, he paced in the Grand Hall, his leather-clad feet following the same path around the table he knew so well. The girl was the answer, he knew that much now. And it was directly linked to the fairies. Her magic wasn’t strong enough or consistent enough, so she had to be in possession of something powerful, but what was it? Then he stopped, and a smile began to work its way across his face. He wasn’t the only one who traded in magical hard-to-find objects, and if Regina didn’t know anything, there was one other person who would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, chapter 3! Please review/leave comments! They would be greatly appreciated. XD Not much happens in this chapter, but their meeting is coming up. As always, the characters are not mine.

Rumplestiltskin checked his wristwatch. It was a rusty old thing, a deal he had made long ago, although for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why. He had still been new to making deals then. Anyway, why hadn’t the sniveling rat shown up by now? Just then, a tiny man slid into the booth opposite him, hands nervously worrying a worn red wool hat. Unimpressed, Rumple snarled, “You’re late.”

“I apologize, Dark One. I was just-it was just that-I was,"

Rumplestiltskin waved him off. “I don’t care about your pathetic apologies. Do you have the answers I need, Mr. Smee?”

“Yes,” Smee replied, bobbing his head a little too vigorously. “Do you have the potion?”

“Of course,” came the lazy reply.

“Well, can I see it?”

“No.”

At this, Smee turned a little more defiant. “Potion first or no de-“ He was cut off as an invisible fist closed around his throat, slowly squeezing harder and harder.

“I make the rules, Mr. Smee. Not you. Me. You’d do best to understand that. Now are you going to give me the information I want or not? Think long and hard about your answer.”

But as Rumplestiltskin had predicted, the man didn’t need long at all, choking out a “Yes, Dark One.”

Rumple released him and the man fell hard against the back of the booth, clawing at his throat as if he could still feel the pressure against his windpipe. 

“Mr. Smee,” he said, in his quietest, yet most dangerous voice.

“Yes yes. Books. She has books.”

“What type of books?”

“There was a rumor that her mother wasn’t just an ordinary fairy. She was the Keeper of Tomes.”

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin said. “But what does that mean?”

“When she gave up her magic, she didn’t give up everything. She still has some of the books she used to guard. Books on the origin of fairy dust, the beginning of magic itself.”

“And now the girl has them,” Rumplestiltskin murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“That’s all I know. She had a daughter right? No one knows what became of the tomes, but if I had to wager a guess, I’d say they are her daughter’s now.”

“So I’ll just have to kill the girl,” said Rumplestiltskin.

Smee laughed nervously. “Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. It’s fairy magic. The books must be given willingly.”

“Fine. I’ll make her a deal that she can’t refuse. That’s easy enough.”

“Sir, may I have my reward now?” asked Smee meekly, still rubbing at his hat.

“Yes, yes, here it is.” Rumplestiltskin produced a small bottle from his waistcoat, containing a clear blue liquid. Drink this, it will transform you into whoever you want to be for six hours. Just remember, the more often you take it, the less time it lasts.”

It seemed the man had not heeded his warning and tucked it away. Smee stopped only to bow low to the floor, muttering, “Thank you, Dark One,” before scurrying out the door and into the night. 

Rumple watched after him for a moment before dropping his arms and vanishing with a curl of purple smoke. He materialized in his bedchambers, trying to figure out exactly how to go about making a deal. He knew that the books were the girl’s mother’s, and as such, she would be extremely unwilling to part with them. Unless….unless he put her in a situation where she would do anything to get out of it. Conjuring up a map of the Marshlands, he reached out with his mind, finding the ogre’s encampment and where they were headed. 

Tracking their progress on the map with his finger, he saw that they were headed straight to Avonlea, the home of the lord and his daughter herself. Ah ha, he thought. It was almost too easy.

Just to the west of Avonlea lay the sprawling city of Anateva, the biggest port of the region. With a little encouragement, the ogres in the south of the Enchanted Forest raised their heads, sniffing the air, before turning west, straight to Anateva itself. Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers and smiled. He knew how to recognize a desperate soul, and he definitely knew how to create one. By tomorrow, just when they would do anything to get out of it, he would appear and offer the girl a deal. If she was the lady she seemed, she’d take it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Belle hurried along the rows of wounded, hiking up her skirts and brushing the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. The Marshlands were hot enough as it was, and the infirmary was only made hotter by the hundreds of wounded men fresh from the wars, packed in the room as tightly as hay bales in the stable. She reached the flap of the tent and brushed it aside, noting that it was nearly dark, before hurrying to the nurse’s tent on the opposite side of the campground.

Before she got there, she was stopped by Sir Archibald, one of her father’s most trusted men. His shock of red hair could still easily be seen in the dying light, but it worked well with his kind, but worn face.

“Archie!” Belle exclaimed, calling him by the name she’d used since she was little and couldn’t say his full moniker.

“Belle,” he frowned. “You know your father doesn’t want you near the wounded! What if you got sick from the infection?”

“I’m fine Archie,” Belle said exasperatedly. “You know that it’s always been harder for me to get sick. Mama’s blood running through my veins and all that.”

Archie looked about to protest, and Belle hurriedly continued. “Besides, these poor men need someone to help them, and with so many women struggling to care for their children, there’s not a lot of people who can.”

Archie ran a hand through his straggly hair, leaving it sticking straight up. “All right. I won’t tell unless your father asks.”

“That’s all I was hoping for.” Belle stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, but as she prepared to dash off, Archie stopped her again.

“Oh Belle, before I forget, your father is looking for you. He said to meet him up in the war room.”

“Hm. Ok,” Belle replied. Archie headed off to oversee the men on the far side of the grounds as Belle hiked up her skirts and raced toward the castle, trying to figure out her father wanted. He could have figured out that she was still helping with the care of the wounded after being expressly told not to, but it didn’t seem like it from what Archie had told her.

By the time she reached the doors to the war room, she was gasping for breath. Taking a minute to compose herself, she wiped her hands on the thin linen of her dress, tucked away flyaway pieces of hair behind her ears and coolly strode into the room. Her father was sitting in his throne, hand under his chin as he thought.

“Papa?”

“Oh! Belle, dear!”

“You were calling me?”

“Yes…..” He looked troubled, wrinkles criss-crossing their way across his already tired face.

“Papa, what’s wrong? Did another city get taken? Oh no! How many people are dead?’

“We don’t know.”

“What do you mean, papa?”

“Belle, Anateva is under siege.”

Belle gasped. Besides Avonlea, Anateva was the biggest city in the entire province. It was the center for trade because of its many ports. “Oh no,” she murmured. “And if the ships can’t come in…”

“We don’t have supplies,” her father finished. “Belle, the people are losing hope. And if they lose hope, then they lose the will to fight. Everyone is getting desperate.”

Belle ran forward to grasp his hands. “But Papa, what can we do?” She looked around at the empty room. “And where is everyone? All your advisors?”

“I needed to talk to you. There is a way that we can help.”

“What is it?”

“Well….” Sir Maurice hesitated, knowing his daughter would not at all like what he had to say. “Sir Gaston,” he finally said.

Belle’s eyes narrowed. “Oh Papa, no.”

“Belle, he’s from the North. His uncle is Lord Belgron, and he’s willing to send his own troops to the Marshlands to help us for something in exchange.”

“Why is this the only thing that we can give him?”

“They have more than enough gold. The lord says that Gaston has been wanting a bride for some time and he’s already asked for your hand. I told him I would give him your answer soon.”

Belle fidgeted. She had completely forgotten about that problem, although she had no idea how it had managed to slip her mind.

“And Belle, if anything happened to you…” Maurice trailed off.

“Papa, I’m fine.”

“Yes, but Gaston could keep you safe. I won’t always be around.”

A tear slipped down Belle’s face and she closed her eyes tightly.

“Belle, please. Just….think about it?”

“How much time do I have?”

“I’ll need to inform Gaston by tomorrow.”

Belle nodded, stepping away and swiftly turning around, while hastily dashing the tears from her eyes. She walked briskly out of the room, breaking into a run once the doors had shut behind her. Fleeing to her bedchambers, she hurled herself onto her bed, softly crying into the pillow. There was only one choice in the situation. She had to do what she could to save her people. At least, she reasoned, Gaston is a decent man. He liked her. It could have been a lot worse. But as much as her head continued to say this, her heart was weeping for the love it would never have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that’s it for this chapter! Once again, I apologize for how short it is, but I have the fourth chapter already written, it just needs to be edited, so it’ll be up soon, and a lot more happens there.


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